A Mother's Ignorance
by frecleface
Summary: Mrs. Karofsky tells us how much her son has gone through for the past couple of years, and her point of view of the situation.  One-shot. Rated T, but beware of that one word that everybody hates that has something to do with sexual intercourse...


**A MOTHER'S IGNORANCE**

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><p>I don't question my methods of raising my child. Others may see it as an odd way of showing my baby how life works, but to me, it's perfectly normal. Ever since he was just a little boy I knew he had it in him. He would know how to stand up for himself and frown upon anything that isn't considered normal nowadays.<p>

I can't begin to describe how happy I was when he told me he was really into sports. At that point, I knew he was on the right track to become a great man. He was doing so well in school too, coming home with grades that made me very proud to be his mother. I'll admit, he wasn't exactly a straight-A student, but it was good enough for me to see that he was happy with his average Cs and Bs and also the occasional As. It could only go uphill from there.

Watching my little boy walk into the high school building for the first time made me realize just how much he'd grown, and I was certain that he would do just as well in there as he did in middle school and elementary. Sure enough, he joined the football team and later the hockey team. His grades were still average, but I was certain that was only because he didn't want to seem too smart in front of his peers. Very keen thinking on his behalf, I have to say. I know from first-hand experience just how evil kids can be at that age, so I was very proud of my son when he told me he was only dumbing himself down so he didn't lose his friends. He wasn't stupid, and he knew it just as much as I did.

I was certain that he would sweep through high school and finish it like a charm. Such were my hopes for my son, and he knew it. But then, disaster struck.

He started coming home mopier than usual, and when I tried to talk to him about it, he'd either shrug it off or tell me to leave him alone. Now, what was that about? He was already seventeen – surely the whole resistance thing that puberty makes kids go through was long passed, right? I refused to believe that my son was a late-bloomer. After all, he had had his experience with girls (though I didn't really approve of his constant switching between partners), so surely it wasn't out of embarrassment that he was so angry all the time.

What's worse, his grades slowly started plummeting downwards. At first, it was no big deal. They were just the first couple of tests for the new semester, and I was sure he was just rusty from summer vacation. But no matter how much time passed, the grades wouldn't go up. Why was that? At first, I thought maybe his friends were just that stupid so he had do dumb himself down even more, but as the Cs became Ds, and the minuses started flooding in, I knew something was wrong. By the time I saw the fourth F, I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to know what was happening.

Why was my boy suddenly so sheltered? Why wouldn't he talk to me? Why would he avoid me at all times? Why didn't he see that I was only trying to help him?

Suddenly, it hit me.

It had nothing to do with my son. Nothing at all. No, I knew exactly what was upsetting him. It was that damn queer. It had to be. My son is raised in a home where something like _that_ is frowned upon, so it's only natural that having one of _them_ in his school would unsettle him. I wasn't at all surprised. It all made sense now. The dropping grades, the ignoring, the tendancy to get violent over nothing… Of course. He was afraid of that damn queer, and was ashamed of it, so he covered it up with a bad-ass façade. My poor baby.

But it didn't stop there, oh no. When I skimmed through his room once in a while, I could see empty bottles and cans of liquor (heaven only knows how he got them!), and that his clothes were dirtier than usual. My initial thought was that the bad-ass façade was going out of hand, but I soon realized this had nothing to do with it. My poor son was drowning his sorrows and fears with alcohol and partying. Instantly, I told him that underage drinking was not allowed in my family, but I tried to do it in a way that would show him I was being sympathetic. I still remember all too well how he reacted to that: he screamed various cuss-words at me, saying things like _you don't control me _and _I do what I want_, before storming off into his room and slamming the door shut. It was at that moment that I was certain his fear of the homo was too great.

What in the name of all that is holy was that stupid fag doing to my son when I wasn't looking? What did my boy do to deserve all this? And why weren't the school authorities doing anything about it? Surely they would have realized by now that having a queer in the school was dangerous for the other students. What if he lured the other boys into a corner and did something to them? What about things like gym class? I shuddered at the thought of it. Thank goodness fags don't like sports anyway. But still, I knew nothing about this kid, so he might as well have joined the football team just so he could gawk at my son and traumatize him some more. Ugh! _Why_ were people allowing this?

The worst had yet to come. One day, when I came home from work, my husband told me that our son, my baby, had been expelled. When I heard those words, I almost dropped to the floor. I could feel my anger level rising as I clenched my fists to try and calm down. When I asked why, my husband said that the queer had said that our son had threatened him with death. I could hear my own heartbeat. Why _shouldn't_ he have done that? The damn fag was making a nervous wreck out of my boy! Surely he must have done it out of self-defense, right? No, my husband said. Apparently, my boy had been "picking on" the fag for quite some time. Naturally, I asked him if anybody had seen it, or had at least been there to witness anything of the sort. No, of course not.

I knew it. I fucking knew it. The homo was pinning this all on my son. _He_ had been the one doing the pickings! Now this was suddenly _my son's_ fault! I refused to believe this nonsense, so I called the school board the moment I could. I only wish I didn't have to work so much that week because I would've done it a lot sooner. Either way, they agreed with me. As long as there was no proof of these accusations, it was only the homo's words against ours, and my son was free to attend school again. He did have to be absent for a few days, but he went back again eventually. When he did, I was thrilled to find out that the fag had transferred to another school. Finally, justice had been served and my boy was safe.

I wasn't shocked when his grades gradually started rising again, and his generous mannerisms were back. True, it's taken him some time to get over the fact that he doesn't have to pretend to be cool anymore, but he's definitely getting there. And what's even better is that he seems to have found a really nice girl to date too. I haven't met her yet, but from what my boy tells me, she's very sweet but also sassy, with a lot of attitude and not afraid to be herself. Now that's the kind of girl I was hoping for him to find!

But it was too good to last. Shortly after he started seeing that girl (Shauntal? Serena? Sandy? Samantha? Something like that…), my husband was called up by the principal again. He refused to let me come along, said there was no fuss, but I still wanted to go this time. I only stayed behind because I saw that my boy really didn't want me to worry about him too much. I nearly blacked out when they came home from the meeting and I asked them what it had been about. The stupid gaywad was coming back! No. No, there was _no_ way they were going to let him do that after all he did! Surely somebody must've protested!

I realized at that point that it was my son who had prompted this. Appalled, I asked him why. Why would he want his tormentor back? He said that now that he and his girlfriend had formed this anti-bullying squad that protects other students from potential bullying, it was safe to walk the school hallways again. I was so proud, I could've cried. That's what I call standing up for yourself and believing in what is right! I'm so happy that he found this girl. Clearly, she has shown him the right way.

Oh, and did I mention that he was voted Prom King? He wouldn't tell me who his queen was, and was pretty embarrassed when I asked him about it, so I'm assuming it was either some girl he doesn't know, or someone he's not very fond of. It doesn't matter to me, really. But still, Prom King! That's an honor no one in this family has had so far, and I was so happy to know he had been chosen.

My sweet, sweet David. He's come such a long way, you know? I'm very certain that _now_ is the time to say that it can only go uphill from here.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> Just a quick one-shot that's been gnawing the back of my head for a while now. Nothing special, really. Just imagining my version of how Dave Karofsky's mom might possibly be like, compared to his dad. I know there's like a bajillion stories just like this, and most people who watch the show see his mom to be a homophobic bitch, but hey. I wouldn't be a Gleek if I didn't join the groups, right?

Peace!


End file.
